


A Constellation in His Image

by babykid528



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [8]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Adultery, Age Difference, Anal Sex, First Time, Idol/Fan, Idols, M/M, Smoking, the rest of the cast are mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 22:42:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1834885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babykid528/pseuds/babykid528
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://colinmorgan.tumblr.com">colinmorgan</a> prompted: Bruce/Chris, Idol/Fan trope</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Constellation in His Image

**Author's Note:**

  * For [curvasud](https://archiveofourown.org/users/curvasud/gifts).



> **Additional Warnings:** slight verbal humiliation (prior to sex); even slighter Dom/sub undertones

Chris is 14 the first time he falls in love with a man. It's the first time he falls in love with anyone, actually. But he'd at least been attracted to girls before then. Fourteen is the first time he's ever aware of being attracted to a man. And it’s the first time he falls in love with one.

See, there's this show he gets obsessed with.  _Nowhere Man_. It's on every Monday night and it's this hot new thriller/drama, full of lies and intrigue. He totally has to beg his parents to let him watch it. The show airs on a school night and they're concerned since he has homework to do, but they acquiesce in the end and it basically makes Chris' whole year.

Because the guy playing Thomas, the lead on the show, is absolutely  _gorgeous_. He’s got luxurious, long hair, a deep, sexy voice, and when he takes his shirt off his chest is covered in an impressive layer of hair.

Chris goes out and buys a jean jacket and as much flannel as he can find, just so he can dress like the guy. Katie calls him an idiot for it and his parents give him embarrassing, knowing looks, but Chris doesn't even care. Thomas is stunning and Chris jerks off thinking about him almost daily for the entire year the show runs. He's never come so hard in his young life, and it's all thanks to _goddamn Thomas Veil_.

The show, despite critical acclaim, doesn’t actually make it past the first season though. Chris is heartbroken when it gets canceled. And then he meets Liz and it doesn't take him long to get over his heartbreak and start jerking off to other thoughts and images.  _Nowhere Man_  quickly forgotten.

\---

Twelve years later, Chris has just officially signed the contracts for the new Star Trek movie. He preps for his first table read by flipping through the script, fiercely trying to learn the material as fast as humanly possible so he doesn't seem like a dumb choice for the role when they all get together.

He's lucky. He already knows Zach before they start. That helps make the whole thing a little less terrifying. And it actually doesn't take long on the first day for everyone to arrive and introduce themselves, all different degrees of nervous and excited. All exceedingly friendly.

The last person to arrive, though, leaves Chris standing wide-eyed in a stunned silence.

 _"Thomas Veil,_ " he blurts out as the newcomer offers Chris his hand.

The guy laughs, voice even deeper and more seductive than Chris remembers it.

"You remember  _Nowhere Man?"_  He asks.

"Oh yeah," Chris practically moans the words, further embarrassing himself.

The guy just grins.

"I'm Bruce Greenwood," he says. "You must be Chris Pine."

Chris finally shakes his hand, still stunned.

"You know my name?" he asks before he can think the better of it.

Bruce laughs again, pleased and surprised in equal measure as he takes in Chris' reaction to him.

"Yeah, well, you and Zach are kind of the leads," Bruce reminds him.

And that reminder manages to shake Chris back to the present reality.

"Fuck," he hisses, "I'm so sorry."

Bruce holds up a hand and stops him. "Not to worry. I haven't actually seen someone that excited about  _Nowhere Man_  since... well, since ever, honestly. You're a nice ego boost there, Chris. I'm flattered."

"That's great," Chris says, face heating as he laughs, "I'm completely embarrassed."

Bruce claps him on the shoulder.

"Don't be," he says. "It's nice to know I have at least one fan."

Bruce gives him a wink and Chris almost falls over.

Before he can respond, J.J. asks them to take their seats so they can begin work.

It turns out that the fucking man of Chris' dreams, his childhood idol, is playing Christopher Pike, Kirk's idol, in Trek. It's something Chris can hardly wrap his mind around as he tries his damnedest to act cool for the rest of the day, so he can get through the first read-through without being fired.

It's a special kind of agony though, sitting across the table from the man he'd fantasized about as a boy. Just the memories, combined with the presence of the real life, gorgeous man, are enough to keep Chris half-hard throughout the entire day's work.

When J.J. calls a wrap for the day, Chris is so thankful, he could cry. He's just about to bolt out of there, when Simon and Zoe suggest they all go get some food and drinks at the nearby bar. Everyone agrees quickly, including Bruce. Chris can't possibly turn it down.

It’s actually a wonderful meal. They all share ridiculous stories and spend the night laughing together well after all the food is gone. They also drink more than they probably should. By midnight, Zach and Zoe are dancing circles around poor, sober Anton while Eric watches and laughs, and Karl, John, and Simon are playing darts (though they’re mostly just arguing about something unintelligible while holding darts in her hands). Bruce slides into the booth across from Chris while Chris takes the scene in.

“So,” Bruce says, “This is looking like it’s going to be a promising group to work with.”

Chris scans the group again, anything to keep his eyes off of Bruce, and he can’t help but smile at these warm, friendly people. He ducks his head then and rubs his fingers through the condensation on his bottle of beer.

“Yeah, they seem pretty great.”

Bruce hums in response.

He lets a beat pass before he asks, “You want to go outside and have a smoke?”

Chris looks up at him, surprised. Bruce just waits.

“Sure,” Chris tells him.

Bruce gets up and makes his way past the crowd with Chris close behind. They leave through the front of the bar and step to the side, just into the small alleyway between the bar and the next building. Bruce lights one cigarette and passes it to Chris and then he lights a second for himself.

“I’m surprised you smoke,” Bruce tells him after taking a long drag.

Chris snorts, “We’ve all got bad habits.”

He takes a puff of the cigarette while Bruce nods.

“So,” Bruce begins. Chris is fairly certain, even after this short amount of time, that ‘so’ is Bruce’s most used word.

Chris is about to tell him that, now that he’s finally over his initial star-struck, embarrassment, but Bruce decides to release a mouthful of smoke just then, making a single smoke-ring in the middle of his exhale. Chris feels his dick twitch so violently at that sight, as the memory of Bruce, as Thomas Veil, twelve years prior doing the same thing, fills Chris’ head.

He makes a totally undignified noise.

Bruce doesn’t look at him though. He stays focused on his cigarette, like he’s savoring it.

After another puff he turns to Chris and stares him in the eye. His own eyes are full of knowing.

“So,” Bruce repeats the word again, for the fiftieth time. “How many times did you jerk off to thoughts of me throughout the years, kid?”

Chris fumbles and drops his cigarette at Bruce’s question.

“Excuse me?” Chris sputters.

“Come on now,” Bruce says, matter-of-fact, “You can quit trying to hide it. You’re doing a lousy job of it.”

Chris opens and closes his mouth repeatedly, unsure of what to say.

“How old are you anyway?” Bruce asks. “Thirty-one? Thirty-two?”

“I’m twenty-seven,” Chris manages to answer.

“Fuck me,” Bruce mumbles before saying louder, “You were a fucking baby back in ’95.”

“I was fourteen,” Chris says.

Bruce laughs.

“Jesus Christ,” he says, “I was twelve years older than you are now when I was working on that show.”

Chris clenches his hands into fists. He wishes he still had the cigarette to hold. Anything to focus on, to help him possibly get through this completely mortifying moment.

“Mr. Greenwood –” He begins, in an attempt to preserve some of his shredded dignity, but Bruce cuts him off.

“Call me Bruce,” he says, “Last names are a little too formal when I know you’ve gotten off while thinking about me.”

Chris feels himself go so hot in the face then, he’s sure he must be positively scarlet.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks.

“Doing what?” Bruce asks in return.

“This,” Chris deadpans, flailing his arm between them, “Acting like an asshole.”

Bruce tilts his head and grins, “Is that what I’m doing?”

“If it’s _not_ ,” Chris says, “then you’re sure doing one hell of a job at making it seem like you’re acting like an asshole. Bravo.”

Bruce hums again and drops the butt of his cigarette so it can join Chris’ at their feet. He turns to face Chris head on then.

“Maybe,” he says, “I’m trying to ascertain just how turned on I still make you by bringing up how turned on you obviously used to get when you saw me. Maybe I don’t want to suggest we go back to your place until I know you’ll probably say yes.”

And that is the most ludicrous pick up line that Chris has ever been given. It’s also the only one that’s ever left him gaping like a fish with his dick completely hard in his pants.

He does his best to shake it off, at least mentally. The boner is not going anywhere any time soon. Not without assistance.

“Fuck you, man,” He spits out, suddenly angry. “Why are you fucking with me?”

Because that’s the only explanation Chris’ brain can conjure. Bruce has to be completely fucking with him right now. Bruce, with his shiny wedding band and his years of wisdom and experience that make Chris certain that Bruce would never say such a thing and mean it. There’s no way. Bruce knows better. And Bruce is definitely not interested in _him_.

But Bruce takes a step forward, and another when Chris remains rooted to his spot. He reaches out his hands to take Chris’ face in his palms, to run his thumb below Chris’ chin.

“Chris,” Bruce says, barely above a whisper, “I think you’ll learn very quickly that I am nothing if not sincere. If I was just fucking with you, you would know. I would make that abundantly clear to you.”

And just like that, Bruce slants their mouths together in a kiss.

Chris knows on an intellectual level that this can’t be happening. He can’t kiss, or be kissed by, Bruce Greenwood in an alley by a bar. Especially not mere days after being officially signed on as the lead in the new Star Trek movie. Especially not when Bruce is also listed as a cast member on that same movie franchise. Especially not when bruce is _married_. It is so, disastrously irresponsible, so completely reckless, and one of them needs to end it immediately.

But then Bruce swipes his tongue along Chris’ lips then and licks into Chris’ mouth, eliciting a moan, and how can Chris even think of ending _that_? _He can’t_.

Chris can do nothing but lean into Bruce and return the kiss.

Suddenly, Simon and John come barreling out the front door of the bar, the both of them loud enough to sound like a crowd of raucous drunks, and Bruce puts some space between himself and Chris.

Neither of their castmates notice them though, and Chris thanks God for small favors.

When the coast is clear once again, Bruce reaches out to trace Chris’ lower lip with his thumb.

“You’re gorgeous, Chris,” he says.

Chris is fucking gobsmacked.

“You must hear that all the time,” Bruce says, and for the first time, he almost looks bashful himself.

Chris feels fortified by that momentary lapse of confidence. He’s entirely too sober to be making this kind of stupid decision, but he steps forward anyway, right up into Bruce’s space. He maintains eye contract while he does so and notes the way Bruce shifts from minutely bashful to shocked.

“A full year,” he says, voice low but clear.

Bruce looks confused, “What?”

“You asked me earlier how many times I jerked off while thinking about you,” Chris says. “It was a whole year. From the pilot of _Nowhere Man_ on past the finale. I got off to fantasies of you at least once a day.”

“Shit,” Bruce breathes the word out on an exhale, eyes wide.

“I was going to do it again tonight,” Chris admits, feeling brazen, “But maybe I don’t need to?”

Chris watches Bruce transform before him. He watches the hesitation and wonder that somehow crept into his countenance dissipate and be replaced by the former confidence he’d been exhibiting all night.

Bruce slides his hand from Chris’ jaw into his hair and he practically growls when he leans in to kiss him again. Chris meets him halfway and it’s a clash of mouths. Teeth clacking and warring tongues. Bruce presses Chris up against the side of the building and slots his thigh between Chris’ legs. Chris bucks against it, desperate for friction, desperate to be touched.

Bruce pulls back, leaving Chris panting then, and he presses his own erection against Chris’ hip.

“How do you want to do this, Chris?” he asks, voice wrecked. “You want me to jerk you off here, or can you make it home?”

“Fuck,” Chris gasps, the breath leaving his lungs completely at Bruce’s words.

His brain is addled with lust and it’s hard enough to remember his own name, let alone to make that kind of choice. His body wants to come as quickly as possible, but his brain, as addled as it is, is not so keen on possibly getting caught with his pants literally down.

“What’ll you do to me if we go back to my place?” he asks.

Bruce grins then, wild and predatory.

“What won’t I do? That’s the better question.” Bruce says.

Chris laughs. They both laugh then. Bruce rubs his fingers against Chris’ scalp while they have their moment of mirth.

Once they’ve gotten themselves under control again, Chris notes that something that could possibly be adoration flits across Bruce’s features. It’s gone quickly though, replaced by a lascivious smile.

Bruce steps backward and turns toward the parking lot. He nudges Chris forward with the hand still in his hair, before he drops the hand to Chris’ nape. He steers them both in the direction of his car.

“You’ll have to tell me how to get to your house,” Bruce says.

Chris nods, even though he knows Bruce can’t see it while looking forward.

It’s a short drive, filled with both a comfortable silence and an uncomfortable tension. Chris is still hard in his pants by the time they reach their destination and he has a rough time of opening his apartment door. He doesn’t even bother with the pleasantries of offering Bruce a drink or anything when they finally enter his apartment. He just leads Bruce through the living room and back to the bedroom.

Chris stops just inside the room to give Bruce a chance to get accustomed to the new surroundings. Bruce just presses up against Chris’ back though, wraps his arms around Chris’ waist, and mouths at the side of Chris’ neck.

Chris shivers and leans back into Bruce’s warmth.

“Will you fuck me?” Chris asks on a sigh.

“Yes,” Bruce promises.

Bruce helps Chris undress slowly. It’s such a strange counterpoint to less than half an hour ago, outside the bar, but it’s no less hot.

Once Chris is naked, Bruce takes a moment to admire his body. He’s already maintaining his shape for filming and his gym regiment is really highlighted in his arms and chest. Bruce gropes his bicep, digs his fingers into his flesh so he can feel the muscle there, and then he drops his hand to trace over Chris’ abs.

Chris is blushing again, and full body blush. He can see it creeping across his chest and he can feel it in his face.

“So gorgeous,” Bruce sighs.

“Why are you still dressed?” Chris blurts out.

Bruce laughs.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, “I forget how impatient young men can be.”

Chris gasps at that and Bruce’s smile goes wicked.

He takes a step toward Chris, while undoing his belt.

“Get the lube and condoms out. We’re going to need them.”

Chris’ eyes go wide and he forgets how to breathe. When his brain goes back online again, Bruce has already removed his pants. Chris scrambles to do what he was told.

Bruce is naked when he turns to look at him again. His body is all lean muscle and his chest is covered in coarse, grey hair.

“Fuck, you’re even hotter than I imagined,” Chris says before he can think better of it.

Bruce grins and adds, “For an old man.”

Chris shakes his head, vehemently.

“No,” he says, “For anyone.”

As if to prove his point Chris’ dick very obviously twitches. Bruce, who was already more than halfway to hard himself, visibly gets harder at the sight.

“Get on the bed and into whatever position you prefer,” he instructs Chris.

Chris instantly gets onto the bed and scrambles to his hands and knees, his face pressed down into the pillows, his ass raised into the air.

Bruce chuckles and runs an appraising hand across Chris’ side, palm flat, careful not to tickle.

“You look entirely too good like that, do you know that?” he asks.

Chris whines in response. “Are you gonna fuck me sometime tonight?”

Bruce chuckles again and lays a sharp slap on Chris’ ass.

“So damn impatient,” he mumbles.

Chris just leans back, pressing his ass into Bruce’s palm.

“Alright, alright,” Bruce concedes.

He climbs onto the bed behind Chris and braces himself on Chris’ back while he kneels in the proper position. He doesn’t waste time talking Chris through what he’s going to do. Not that Chris needs to be talked through anything. The next thing Chris hears is the lube being flicked open and then he feels Bruce’s cold, slick fingers running between his ass cheeks.

He flinches away from the cold, gasping, but Bruce just holds him steady, his free hand on Chris’ thigh.

He circles his slick fingers around Chris’ hole making Chris whimper as his dick drizzles precome across the sheets beneath him.

“Shhh,” Bruce soothes, removing his hands to get more lube.

When his hand returns, he slides his first finger into Chris agonizingly slowly.

“You can go faster,” Chris barks, “I have done this before.”

Bruce slows to a stop inside of Chris.

“Do you really want to start barking orders at the guy with the power to make you come at his fingertips, literally?” he asks.

He crooks his finger then and brushes across Chris’ prostate, making Chris shout.

“Do you want this to end before it even begins?” Bruce asks.

“N-no,” Chris stutters. “Fuck. Please. I need more.”

Bruce soothes him again before saying, “You will get more. Don’t worry. Just be patient.”

Bruce begins fucking Chris slowly with one finger, then, and Chris presses his face into the pillows and moans.

Bruce adds a second finger after an alarmingly long time. He does the same with a third. Chris just rubs his face into the bed in response and flexes his fingers against the sheets.

“Good boy,” Bruce coos.

Chris gasps as Bruce suddenly pulls his hands away from Chris again, leaving his ass empty and his thigh cold.

“Bruce?” he asks, confused.

Then he hears the unmistakable sound of a condom being opened, more lube being used, and Bruce is back. He returns his hand to Chris’ thigh and lines up the head of his dick with Chris’ stretched hole.

He’s gentle as he sinks himself into Chris. Even more gentle than he had been before. The stretch and pressure builds slowly as Chris becomes filled with Bruce’s cock. And he leans back onto it as much as Bruce will let him, all the while babbling incoherently.

He’s gasping by the time Bruce is fully sheathed and h e can hear Bruce doing the same. He can feel it even, in the soft puffs of exhalation Bruce makes against Chris’ bent back.

Bruce’s lube covered hand takes up residence on the bed beside Chris’ waist, acting as an anchor. Once he’s caught his breath, Bruce slowly pulls out. He stops just shy of fully leaving Chris’ body and then pushes forward, burying himself again, just as slowly as before.

“Bruce! Fuck! Please! Move!” Chris groans loudly.

“Okay, okay,” Bruce pants, “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

Chris is about to retort with another demand to move, but Bruce is a fraction of a second ahead of him. He pulls back fast, inhaling as he goes, and slams back into Chris, holding himself deep for a moment while they both gasp.

It takes another moment, another round of pleading demands from Chris, before Bruce is able to straighten up, both hands on Chris’ hips, so he can fuck him the way he wants. He quickly builds up a rhythm of hard, deep strokes that reduce Chris to a whimpering mess, unsure of how he’s managed to keep his knees under him and his ass in the air.

It’s not long before Bruce is reaching a hand around to grip Chris’ cock.

“Come on, Chris,” he pleads.

And Chris is suddenly so close to orgasm, he goes dizzy.

“Come for me, baby,” Bruce says, voice going from pleading to demanding.

And just like a switch has been flipped, Chris shouts as his orgasm rips through him.

Bruce fucks him through it, pounding into Chris’ ass now as his own orgasm builds. Chris can do nothing but moan as he takes it, spent and exhausted, shaking with the aftermath of his own orgasm. It’s not long before Bruce follows though, suddenly going still as he grips Chris’ hips so tightly he must leave bruises behind.

“Fuck,” Bruce gasps as he comes down from it. He curls in on himself, dick still twitching inside Chris, and he manages to press his head to Chris’ curved back.

He’s careful when he pulls out. He goes slow, leaving Chris whimpering while Bruce gasps shallowly above him.

Chris can feel Bruce leave the bed. He assumes he’s going to ditch the condom and clean up. When the bed dips again under Bruce’s returned weight, Chris’ assumptions are confirmed. A warm, wet cloth swipes across Chris’ sore ass before Bruce gently rolls Chris onto his back. Bruce cleans Chris’ soft, sensitive dick with extra care. All the while making soothing noises. Chris can’t do much else other than whine in response.

The sheet got most of the mess, and Bruce takes it off the bed without knocking Chris to the floor somehow, and places it in the hamper in the corner of the room.

When he returns again, he sits on the edge of the bed beside Chris and silently brushes his fingers across Chris’ brow. After a minute Chris realizes that Bruce is once again clothed.

“I have to go home,” Bruce says finally, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Yeah,” Chris says on a sigh. He’s surprised at how sad and almost-bitter that one word sounds to his own ears.

Bruce sighs himself and leans down to kiss Chris, lips soft and sweet, tongue gently seeking entrance.

He pulls back once Chris begins to demand more from the kiss and he brushes his fingers, again, across Chris’ brow.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning on set,” he says, matter of fact.

Chris nods.

He wants to say something, anything really, to make the aftermath of everything seem less weird. He can’t find the right words though, and Bruce leaves the room, and the apartment, before Chris can really give them any thought.

Once alone again, the events of the night really sink in.

He’s just been fucked by his childhood idol. His _married,_ childhood idol. His married, childhood idol, _whom he has to work with for the next however many years_ on a film franchise.

“Fuck,” he whispers into the silence of the bedroom. He rubs his hand over his face and wonders how he ever let himself fuck up this badly.

Before he can berate himself any more, though, his phone chimes with a text.

He grabs for it blindly, and is both surprised and not to see Bruce’s name displayed across the screen.

He clicks to read the message and laughs, shocked:

 

> _You didn’t ask, but I feel it’s only fair to I mention that I spent a solid month picturing your mouth around my dick in the shower after seeing Bottle Shock._

He messages Bruce back instantly:

 

> _It was the wig, wasn’t it? You totally had a thing for the wig!_

Bruce’s reply is just as quick:

 

> _Oh yeah. That was it._

Chris can actually hear the deadpan in the tone of Bruce’s text.

A second text comes in then:

 

> _You should bring it to set once we start filming. You can show me it in my trailer._

Chris’ breathing catches while he reads and his fingers shake slightly while he responds:

 

> _The poor wig is gone, unfortunately. It went off to wig heaven._

He holds his breath, waiting for Bruce’s reply:

 

> _That’s too bad. I guess you’ll have to come by my trailer without it then._

And there it is. Bruce’s thinly veiled proposition to make tonight more than a one-time thing.

Without even a moment’s hesitation, Chris sends back a one-word response:

 

> _Yes_.

He waits a few minutes but Bruce doesn’t reply. He doesn’t have to.

Chris exhales loudly and thinks once again about all the reasons why this is a stupid idea. All the reasons this could fuck up everything for the both of them. In the end, none of those reasons seem to matter much. After all, Bruce wants him. _Again_. How could Chris possibly say no to that?


End file.
